


he's scratching at my window

by BeesKnees



Series: Offspring [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Still Taking this One to my Grave, Voyeurism, Wesker's Creep Levels Escalate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: It's been four months since Albert Wesker took Leon Kennedy, and Wesker won't let Chris Redfield forget it.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield, Leon S. Kennedy/Other(s)
Series: Offspring [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688584
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	he's scratching at my window

Chris has seen a lot of shit in his life. But the last four months have really taken the cake. He doesn't think he's ever been so humiliated, frustrated, and angry as he has been ever since Wesker took Leon. 

There's just layer after layer of _shit_ compounding the situation. It would be bad enough if Wesker had just taken Leon. That would have caused enough problems. 

But the fact that Chris was infected while it happened and assaulted Leon has made everything a mess. Chris hasn't been cleared to go back out into the field and, as a result, has been stuck doing desk work since then. It's not his forte, and no one would claim it was. 

But he's also been through the wringer of having scientists and doctors poke and prod him. He's no stranger to being monitored physically, but this is on a different level – this isn't everyone making sure he's in tip-top shape. This is them making sure that he's not a threat to himself or anyone else. This is him, essentially, being a test subject as they try to figure out Wesker's latest trick.

He's had to jerk off in front of people, more than once. Christ. If he has to hear anymore science-based talk about his sex drive or his sperm count or his hormones, he's going to lose his mind. He just wants to know the goddamn virus is out of his system. 

He's had to recount – many, many times -- what had happened between him and Leon at the end. Chris still hasn't managed to stop flushing red when he tells the story. It's worse when he imagines Leon's reaction to Chris sharing everything. 

Leon had been more in tune with what was happening, in retrospect. He had known they were in danger. He had tried to get them out of there while Chris had just … succumbed like some hapless neanderthal. 

Which is how it feels like he's being treated right now. He's used to the trust and comfort of the BSAA, and, right now, he feels like everyone's on eggshells around him. He can't even blame them. But it's a really lonely existence. And it's continued to take away the purpose he has built his life around. He would never say it was easy to be a soldier in the war against BOWs, but at least he'd had a role. He'd known who he was – and that was training and taking other men into battle, giving them a chance to make themselves and their world feel safer. 

But hardly anyone feels safe around Chris right now. So he's chained to a desk with only his oldest friends for comfort. 

Claire had tried to come and stay with him for awhile. They were restless around each other. Chris hadn't been in a state where he wanted to be taken care of, which was what, essentially, Claire had shown up to do. So they sniped at each other and separately worried about Leon without knowing how to to talk about it. Neither of them was well made for sitting on their ass. There were also so few things that they couldn't discuss with one another. Finding one had been a strange stumbling point. 

None of that even begins to get into how strained things have been between the United States government and the BSAA. 

Chris knows this isn't solely about him and Leon, but it feels like with this single move, Wesker has threatened to undo everything Leon and Chris have worked for. This salacious story is overwriting their legacies. 

Maybe all of that would have been manageable if they could at least find Leon. Chris doubts that Leon will ever forgive him for all of this and definitely is going to want to die of mortification when he sees how far this information has spread. But that still seems like a small consequence compared to his being in Wesker's clutches. To them having virtually no trail to follow. 

The first month had been a flurry. There had been the site to examine and Chris to examine, and everyone had been fairly certain that something would give. More than a few folks had figured that Leon would just get himself out of Wesker's clutches, cure himself, and then show up with all the intel they needed to stop this from ever happening again. It was the sort of shit that Leon Kennedy did on the regular, and Chris knew some of the BSAA had taken bets on how long it would be before Kennedy showed up on his own. That didn't stop them from looking. 

But five weeks in was when everything started to take a turn. The trails weren't leading anywhere. There was no unusual chatter in the BOW underground. If Leon had tried to get a signal out to them, they couldn't find it. Chris even tried to find Ada Wong.

What changed was that Wesker decided to taunt Chris. 

Chris wishes that he could have brushed it off as Wesker's arrogance. But there was something unsettling about how easily Wesker had done it. Chris had booted up his laptop at his stupid desk one day and there had been a blank email sitting at the top of his inbox, a single picture attached. It could have been any number of images coming through from the lab. It had that fluorescent sort of lighting to it. 

It was a person, standing against a blank wall, head cut out of frame, shirtless. Stomach distended. Light scars spattered over the torso, the most familiar of which was an old gunshot wound to the shoulder. 

_Leon._

Chris had been overwhelmed by the image. He had wanted to hide it at first, because he hated the implication that what Wesker had alluded to was actually happening. It was just – outrageous. Even after living through weeks of this shit, Chris could hardly believe it. 

He had argued with himself – it was so easy to fake an image like that. Even _if_ Leon was – _carrying_ something inside of him, it couldn't have possibly been that large yet. Chris' blood had run cold when he had realized he'd been assuming that whatever it was was more human than not.

He'd had to turn the image in, which had been scoured over. It was thought to be real. It was thought to be untraceable. 

They were searching old Umbrella locations and intel the world over for Leon Kennedy, and Wesker was dangling him in front of them.

It's been weeks and weeks since then, and Chris feels ground a little finer every day. He wakes up in the morning thinking about Leon and Wesker, a dull sense of dread embedded in his bones before he even opens his eyes. He wants to tell Leon he's so fucking sorry. 

It's been four months since that day, and Chris feels so useless. He can't bring himself to go into the office for another day of stilted conversation and awkward stares. He gets up from his bed only to lie down on his couch, still only in his pajama bottoms. He stares at the ceiling and half wishes Wesker had taken him too. He certainly wishes that Wesker had taken him _instead_.

His phone rings, and Chris doesn't answer.

But after he fails to pick up the first call, whoever it is just calls him back again. Chris closes his eyes and sighs. It likely is Jill or Claire, doing their best to scrape the mess of him back together. Literally the only thing he can do is to alleviate some of their worry, so he rolls over and grabs his phone, pressing it to his ear.

“Hello?” he asks. 

Instead of any of the voices he had expected, he hears a moan.

Chris pulls the phone back and stares at it as if he doesn't know what to make of it. He doesn't.

“Do you want to see him?” 

And that silky, deep voice is one that Chris knows. _Wesker_. 

The video to the call switches on. Chris immediately sits up. 

In vivid, digital color is the man they've all been looking for: Leon Kennedy. He's apparently unaware that Wesker is filming him. They're in some makeshift bedroom that could be a cell or a hospital anywhere, and Leon is straddling a man whose face Chris can't see. Chris isn't particularly concerned with his face either, because it's hard to look away from anything but Leon: Leon is fucking himself down onto the man with fluid rolls of his hips, head tilted back, hair away from his face. He's entirely blissed out, obviously the source of the moan that had started the entire conversation. 

Chris' brain stalls out. It's too much information – he needs to be tactical and he needs to figure out where Wesker and Leon are from any clues they're dropping. He needs someone with better technology skills. 

He needs to not be so fucking distracted by Leon biting his lower lip and the flush that's high on his cheekbones, visible even on the small screen. He wants to be able to blame the virus that Wesker put in him, but he can't drive the images of Leon beneath him in the abandoned facility out of his mind. It's with great guilt that he mulls those moments over and over again, knowing that it's not right because Leon couldn't have possibly wanted it and still unable to block out how gorgeous Leon had been anyway. 

Now feels precariously similar. 

He drags his eyes down Leon's body, taking nearly a full moment to realize that Leon looks – normal. No distended stomach. No signs of anything inside of him. 

“He continues to be a marvel.” 

Chris snarls as Wesker's face comes into frame. He's just sitting there, in a chair in the corner of the room, watching Leon as if this is remotely normal. He rests his cheek on one gloved hand, mimicking something near boredom. 

“Where are you?” Chris snaps even though he doesn't expect an honest answer. “ _Give him back._ He's a DSO agent – how long can you possibly expect to keep him?”

“As long as I want, apparently,” Wesker answers amicably. He inclines his head. “But he has served his purpose now. Anything after this is just … extra.” 

Chris' blood runs cold. He doesn't know how this situation could make him any more desperate. He would never say this out loud, but it would almost be a relief to know that Leon is simply _dead_. 

In the background, he can hear Leon near wailing with what certainly has to be an orgasm. A smile curves the edge of Wesker's lips.

“Next,” Wesker calls. 

The camera flips again and Chris watches, speechless and stunned, as the man Leon had been on top of leaves the bedroom and is replaced by another – someone whose face Chris won't remember later no matter how hard he tries. 

Leon is still spent and boneless on the bed, but the new man crowds him up onto it, leaning down over him. He seems to try and kiss Leon, but Leon either turns his head away or isn't coordinated enough for it. In response, the man simply hikes Leon's legs up around his shoulders and pushes inside of Leon. Leon lets out an aching noise – something that is both desperate and undoubtedly from overstimulation. He has to be in something near pain, but Chris can still Leon's hands fisting in the sheets with pleasure.

“This is the fifth one he's taken today,” Wesker says as if providing idle commentary. 

The camera flips back to Wesker, but there's no tuning out the loud, high-pitched noises that Leon has started to make in the background. Chris swears he can even hear the slap of skin on skin as the man continues to drill ruthlessly inside of Leon.

“Still,” Wesker says, “I think you were his favorite. You're the only one he's conceived with even if his body is so valiantly trying again.” 

Chris is gritting his teeth so hard, he doesn't know how something hasn't broken. He's struggling to find the words to relate the acid hate he feels for Wesker. 

“Agent Kennedy,” Wesker says, raising his voice a little and doing nothing to hide his smug amusement with the situation. “Would you like to convey anything to Captain Redfield right now?”

He hears that noise that Leon makes – that's different. It's recognition. 

“Chr _is_?” Leon asks, and Chris can hear where his name breaks in the middle when Leon is thrust into again. 

“Yes,” Wesker affirms. “He's quite enjoying the show, I believe.” Leon moans, and Chris' pulse is hammering in his ears. He doesn't know where his anger ends and where his arousal is beginning. He's furious with himself.

“Shall we bring him here?” Wesker taunts. “Would you enjoy being _bred_ by him again?” 

In the background, Leon sobs. Wesker turns the camera so that Chris can see Leon tightening underneath his partner, coming in streaks across his chest. He's trying to gasp out Chris' name, but he can't get a full breath. 

The camera shifts unexpectedly: Wesker is walking out of the room, leaving Leon and the frenzied scene behind. 

“Perhaps I'll take him next,” Wesker says, as if they're making idle conversation. He's walking down a hall – another nondescript place that Chris can only half take in anyway.

“I could send the video over to the BSAA,” Wesker says. “Perhaps give you all a lead to actually finding Agent Kennedy.” 

Wesker smiles thinly and stops walking. He's in front of a large window. It takes Chris an additional second to understand what he's seeing: that, behind that glass, are rows of cribs, the sort that a hospital would use to host newborns. These cribs are already full. 

“We're all looking forward to you joining us here,” Wesker says, and he hangs up.


End file.
